Force Majeure (An Act of Fiction) Thread

Perhaps my longest short story (haha, the oxymoron of it all). I had a lot of fun writing this. It was actually part of a 5-part series of stories, but I crammed it down into about 4 pages (on Microsoft Word). My story for a mod I'm making is much, much longer, but I'm pretty proud of this work. I put a lot of time and effort into it, and even submitted it as part of a project assignment for English class, and got a full A. I even read an excerpt in class (any more and it would've been boring), and a lot of people were clammoring to read it afterwards. I was happy to let them to, to say the least.

Sorry if this isn't another drawing, though. I will be drawing more in the future. It's just that right now, work and school are getting in the way. I'll try to make it up to you guys, somehow

Oh, for those that want to know:

force ma·jeure ( P ) Pronunciation Key (fôrs mä-zhûr, frs)
n.

1. Superior or overpowering force.
2. An unexpected or uncontrollable event.

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"He made his great grandchildren believe you could live to 103. 103 is forever when you're just a little kid, so, they lived forever." - Vonnegut

Staring down the barrel of a gun, time seems to slow down. Your whole life passes by. I thought it was all over—I was wrong. Looking at the man in front of me, seeing the look of anxiousness and turmoil that had wretched his life all this time we were separated, it sort of brought a smile to my face. A couple of days ago it had all come crashing down. The bad things came, like a winter storm. Pushed over the edge, I found myself in the cold no-man's land between right and wrong. No road-signs, on a crash-course with Hell. With nothing to lose. He had been trailing me by the dotted line of empty shell casings that I left behind. I was trying to look for the answers, but every gunshot, instead of closure, was just a hole with more questions leaking out—a spreading labyrinth of questions, like a pool of blood spreading on the snow. To make any kind of sense of it, I need to go back three years. Back to the night the pain started.

* * * * * *

The wind whipped around my body rapidly as I ran down the long dirt path. The harsh pounding of the rain couldn't help but slow me down. Behind me, lights shone out from the fog, causing a stir in the night. I couldn't look back, not now. Quickly, I tossed off my coat to run faster, leaving my stash of guns behind me as I tried desperately to get away from this lunatic that was chasing me. I quickly glanced to the right and to the left for a way off of the road, but there didn't appear to be any, for along the path there were rows upon rows of hungry, maniacal animals ready to devour me if I lost my step. All of a sudden, packs of wolves came from out of the side of the forest, chasing after me. This only caused me to run faster, sprinting as hard as I could as they nipped at my heels, the sound of a juggernaut machine not more than 100 meters behind me, hidden in the dense fog that made up this stormy night. All of a sudden, I hit a pothole full of mud and water. I fell flat on my face, my entire body covered with mud. As I quickly looked up in alarm, the wolves began to circle me, licking their chops like I was their next course for dinner. I gasped, trying to regain my breath after the rough pace I had traveled. Rolling onto my back, I looked behind me to see what the hell was following me the entire time. The lights on the machine grew larger and larger, the hulk of it getting clearer and clearer, until....

Sharply, I sat up from my slumber, drenched in cold sweat. I breathed hard, looking around to see if the wolves, or even better, the machine was still there. But there was nothing. Nothing at all. I had been having that damn dream again.

I was sitting on a large tree trunk in a park, with a low density of trees surrounding me. Any sign of life had been vanquished long ago by whatever had ravished this land. I slowly stood up, my legs and arms feeling numb from the workout I had done in my sleep alone. Before I could stand up, however, I accidentally stumbled, sitting back down on the trunk. I decided to rest a little while longer, catching my breath. I looked down at my feet, noticing I had taken off my trench coat the night before after I had been suffering from exhaustion, traveling 60 miles the last three days without stopping, for I had promised the adoption center I was staying in that I would find someone to help them with the labor in the next town. Knowing that this would be a very long travel, I decided that the only way I could reach Aries as soon as I could was to travel as much as I could during the day, to hide from the dangerous criminals that roamed the land during the pitch black of night. I didn't know why they took part in such acts at night; there was no authority anymore. But I supposed that they didn't want to get caught stealing or harassing other people for their food, money, and personal items. If things came to pass, eventually all of the criminals would be murdering people right and left without any remorse, but thankfully, several of them still had a brain.

After taking a few minutes to calm myself down, I stood up, tossing my coat back over my shoulders, feeling the weight of the guns and bullets they caused in the inside pockets. Before reaching down to grab my suitcase, I felt a long, hard rumbling in my stomach. I had forgotten that the last time I had eaten was three nights ago. I looked up in the trees for any sign of a fruit tree, and sure enough, not that far off of the ground was a tree holding rich, ripe red apples. I walked over to it, keeping my eyes locked on the apple of my choice, which happened to be the best out of the bunch. I gave a little hop, snatching the apple from the stem it grew from. I looked at it carefully, making sure there was nothing wrong with the skin, before giving it a little rub on my shirt and chomping down deep into it. My eyes lit up in happiness, which was the first time I had done so for quite some time. I carefully pulled out a piece of cloth and a switchblade I had brought with me. I spread out the cloth on the ground, and then, carefully, used the knife to cut off every single good-looking apple I could find on the tree, setting them down on the cloth. After I was done, I picked up the cloth and tied it together, making a nice little bag for the apples. I opened up my suitcase, setting the pieces of fruit inside, taking out two for the long travel.

Soon, after making the necessary checks if I still had everything, I set off, making my way through the park. In no time at all, I made my way to a small path. Following it for a long distance, I came to the gates of a small city. I stared up and down it, noticing that it looked a little peculiar. The hinges were practically hanging off of the boards that held them to the walls. The gate itself was losing many pieces, leaving holes all over it, and inside, smoke appeared to be slowly wavering out of it. Slowly, I walked over to the gate, looking through one of the holes to the other side. What I saw made me fall back to the ground.

Hundreds of bodies littered the ground in the city; men, women, and children. Most of the buildings and houses had been torn down and still burning. Swamp water covered the ground, leaving a barren, muddy look. The bodies themselves were stacked upon each other like bags, lying in several different positions to show that whatever happened to them had been horrible beyond belief, for it didn't even look like they had bones to speak of anymore.

I shoved the gate open with all of my might, but when it swung to the other side, it toppled over to the ground, creating a large shake of the ground, like an oak tree slamming onto concrete. It didn't even bother me as I walked into the town, my mouth hanging open as I looked on at the horror of what had happened to this once great city, known in books as Tarfale, or "The land of great souls.” It had been around since before the Great War that had destroyed most of the world with nuclear weapons. It definitely did look like the Underworld now that it had been attacked so savagely. I walked over to the bodies, rubbing the cold sweat off of my forehead that wasn’t there. I knew what I had to do. I had to give them all a proper burial, so that their bodies can finally rest in peace after the animosity they had been through.

Looking inside, I found a sharp shovel, which had been used not too long ago, for blood marked the edges of the spade. I picked up two of the bodies, which happened to be children, gripping their legs with the shovel as I made my way to the town cemetery that stood behind the church, which was not that far away.

I then began the grueling task of burying each and every single one of the bodies that had been killed, making sure I didn't miss a single one. After I finished burying the body, I made a version of the cross with two sticks, wrapped them together with pieces of cloth I had found in a nearby clothing store, giving the bodies a treatment that even God would praise.

After I finished, I stuck the spade of the shovel into the ground, looking out into the long rows of graves I had made. I breathed a sigh of relief, finally taking the shovel out and tossing it aside -- knowing that I would have to expect this further along the road, for whatever had attacked me was indeed sending out a message.

But as I turned to go, I heard the sound of a gunshot. Before I could turn to look, I heard the bullet ring past my ears, making me stand completely still. My head, however, looked all around in front of myself to see who had send that bullet my way. Looking up onto a small hill that jutted out from the ground, I saw a man wearing a tank top and tight jeans, holding two pistols in his hands and a smirk on his face. There appeared to be many scars across his face and arms from past battles. I noticed me as one of the men that had attacked the town that night, for a ski mask was on his head—always a sign of a criminal. The man smirked to himself, as I heard sounds of footsteps all around me. I quickly spun my body around, seeing another man stand out of the clearing, staring at me with the same smirk. Two more men came out of hiding, surrounding me like I was their prey. Slowly edging over to a tombstone, I looked at each of them square in the eyes for no longer than two seconds, knowing all of them came from the same gang. One of the men brought up a pistol, aiming at me threatingly. Suddenly, though, I pulled out a pistol of my own from my coat pocket and shot me square between the eyes, watching me fall to the ground in a heap.

Acting on the situation, I dove behind one of the tombstones, concealing myself from the other men. Bullets rang out, knocking pieces of the tombstones I was hiding behind off; chunks of it flying forward form the sheer force of the guns. Quickly, I hid behind another tombstone next to me, right when the other one broke in half, crumbling in a pile of rocks. Looking over my shoulder, I stood up, pulling out another gun, shooting at the three men while strafing to the left to find another hiding place. I got one of them in both legs, and another in one of the men's shooting arms, but the last guy had gotten away with no damage at all. I dodged behind a large tomb of sorts, tossing the empty clips of the guns to the ground and shoving two more into both pistols.

Before I could move, though, a man came up right behind me, wrapping his arms around my neck, trying his best to choke me to death. Trying to catch my breath, I remembered the switchblade I had in my pocket. Snatching it, I shoved the blade back deep into the other man's side. The man screamed in bloody horror, holding the handle of the blade as he tried to pull it out. As he did, however, it only made the blood flow quicker. Grabbing my pistol, I held the barrel of the gun right against the forehead of the other man, sending a bullet right through it. Blood flew everywhere as the man's head was blown back against the wall, leaving a disdainful trail as he slumped to the ground.

I quickly pulled the switchblade out of the other man's body, stuffing it back into my pocket as I ran out from my hiding spot, diving to the side as I started firing at the other two men who were still trying to sneak up to me. They quickly brought up their pistols to shoot at me, but I managed to shoot one of them right in the heart, the man falling to the ground, dead. The other man proved to be a little smarter than the others, hiding behind a tombstone as well. Both the man and I reloaded, checking around the edges of our hiding places to see if we could find the other. Both of our eyes locked as hatred began to boil in my body. I quickly stood up, as well as the man, both of us running sideways with each other, shooting all of the bullets in our clips. We both quickly dived behind another set of tombstones. I began to reload, but remembered that all the rest of my bullets were back in my suitcase, located back where the pile of dead bodies once were. Cursing under my breath for my own stupidity, I shoved the pistols back into my pockets. Looking around for something to use, I finally noticed the same shovel I had used to dig. Reaching out to grab it, a bullet shot into the ground near my hand. Looking up, I saw the other man standing up. After discovering that I had no more bullets, the man began to run towards me. Before he could reach my spot, I grabbed the shovel as quick as I could, standing up and shoving the spade deep into the man's unguarded torso, going until I heard it hit bone. The man held the shovel with one hand, the pistol with the other, as he cried out in agony, a look of sheer terror in his face as he fell back onto the ground, gasping his final breath.

I released the shovel after making sure the man was dead. Leaning down, I grabbed the pistol from his hands, pulling out the clip to see if any more bullets were in it. Shoving it back in, I aimed at the man's head. Staring at the dead body, he seemed to recount his morals. There was no honor in shooting a dead man. Putting the gun in his back pocket, he began walking around; picking up the guns of the other men and whatever ammo they had on them. I walked out of the cemetery, grabbing my suitcase, reloading whatever guns I had in his coat for just such an emergency. Turning around, I walked out of the town without looking back, making my way North to his hometown of Mobius.

* * * * * *

It seemed this man had survived from the encounter, and had been following me for the past several miles, leaving no trace as to how he had gotten ahead of me without me noticing. The snow around us had picked up, despite them being in a long, narrow alley. Neither of us had spoken, not even when I had been approached while looking for a shortcut home. I had come upon a dead end, but that wasn’t new—in life, you face many dead ends to that one true goal in your life. In this case, it was freedom.

The barrel of the man’s gun followed my gaze as I looked around for a way to get out of this situation. There had to be a way for me to come out of this unscathed, because there was always that certain possibility. Fortunately, lady luck had smiled upon me, in the form of Mother Nature.

A second before it looked like the man would advance, a large patch of snow came crashed down from the rooftop next to the two, smashing into the hand that held the gun. He screamed out in pain, his hand covered in blood from the sharp edges of ice that was hidden beneath the white fluff of hope. Picking up the gun, I held it right under his chin.

“Have a nice day,” I smirked in self-satisfaction as I squeezed the trigger that was used to ending man’s life.

Staring down the barrel of a gun, time seems to slow down. Your whole life passes by. The final gunshot was an exclamation mark to everything that had led up to this point. I released my finger from the trigger. And then it was all over. The storm seemed to lose its frenzy. The ragged clouds gave way to the stars above. The past is a puzzle, like a broken mirror. As you piece it together, you cut yourself. Your image keeps shifting, and you change with it. It could destroy you, drive you mad. This time, though, the mirror was complete, and all I had to look forward to now was the future.

A long piece of fiction that is the accumulation of hours of hard work, and no ones commented on it for 9 hours? Shame on us.

It's a good story, with nice use of grammar. I was left a little confused in some spots though due to a chage in perspective: has it gone from first to third?

I released the shovel after making sure the man was dead. Leaning down, I grabbed the pistol from his hands, pulling out the clip to see if any more bullets were in it. Shoving it back in, I aimed at the man's head. Staring at the dead body, he seemed to recount his morals. There was no honor in shooting a dead man. Putting the gun in his back pocket, he began walking around; picking up the guns of the other men and whatever ammo they had on them. I walked out of the cemetery, grabbing my suitcase, reloading whatever guns I had in his coat for just such an emergency. Turning around, I walked out of the town without looking back, making my way North to his hometown of Mobius.

Is that another person?

Sounds like it was an inadvertant shift. I know that this couldn't be Masamune...could it? Because this is a far cry from the prototype story I originally got...

Karuto wrote: My story for a mod I'm making is much, much longer, but I'm pretty proud of this work.

Apparently, it's not, Sticky. My Masamune story is a hell of a lot different, and isn't even based on the same character. That story is still intact, so no need to worry. I have story-writing abilities outside of TMP

For Frawst - Yes, that might've been a little confusing. It just basically sasid that John was walking around, picking up the equipment from the other bodies. I think I may have slipped over my own verbal usage there, but I tried my best.

I'll try to have a new story on here soon. It's a great idea that's sprout into my head that I'd love to make into a game someday, and hopefully I can get it completed

Sorry about popping by nearly a month too late, but I miss a few threads sometimes...

If you wanted critique on your story, I could give you a bit, although I'll start by complementing you on the creative opening paragraph

The story is ridden with mistakes (I guess it wasn't proof-read), but aside from that there is more writing skill than nearly all students...

A few mistakes include the abrupt switching of perspective multiple times even in mid-sentence (e.g., 'Suddenly, though, I pulled out a pistol of my own from my coat pocket and shot me square between the eyes, watching me fall to the ground in a heap'), which happened a few times. It looked like the dastardly behind-your-back work of the Microsoft Word paperclip guy to me. There are also some quirky areas where a certain word is used too many times: for example, 'smirk' is used three times in a row. You also seem to avoid using words such as 'because' or 'since', putting the half-obsolete word 'for' in there instead, which is a bit awkward. Some sentences sound funny, like 'The harsh pounding of the rain couldn't help but slow me down'.

As for the actual story, I realize that it's brainstorming for a mod. If it were actually meant to be an interesting thing to read, I would tell you it was deadly boring: the whole apple bit for one was strange. The fact that there is only one intelligent character in the story is another thing, as is the fact that the whole situation described seems like a video game transcript

Is the dream at the beginning important in any way? Or is it just random stuff?

obsydian pointed out what i was going to say so yeh.

Suddenly, though, I pulled out a pistol of my own from my coat pocket and shot me square between the eyes, watching me fall to the ground in a heap.

it sounds like hes shooting himself

Well, the dream at the beginning was going to be part of a larger story (I have three chapters in this story) but I tried cramming everything down to one big short story (oxymoron ). It was probably stupid of me to change perspectives from second person to first person, seeing as how it'd probably sound a lot better the other way.

@ StormCrow - Yes, typos galore in this one. Now I feel really stupid that I changed perspectives. lol

I'll be sure to come up with a much better story next time. If that doesn't work out, you guys could wait and see The Masamune Project, seeing as how I wrote the story for that

EDIT: I wish I could modify it, but since it was such a long first post, it exceeds the amount of characters. So, those typos will just have to stay there. I am the abused child of REPLACE ALL

That sentence was supposed to be read as follows:

Suddenly, though, I pulled out a pistol of my own from my coat pocket and shot the man square between the eyes, watching him fall to the ground in a heap.

Edited by (in order): Karuto, Karuto